


Silent Night

by Baylor



Series: Birthright [39]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Christmas, Gen, Weigh It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baylor/pseuds/Baylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeke, at Christmas, alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Night

A canned, tinny version of “Silent Night” was playing on the television in the bar, long past midnight, and Zeke tapped his shot glass.

“I know this song,” he muttered at the bartender as the glass was refilled.

“Everybody knows this song, _amigo_ ,” was the reply. “This is last one. We’re closing.”

“I know this song,” Zeke muttered again, because there had been a trailer with a crappy, plaid, scratchy couch and he’d fallen asleep on it and Casey had, Casey had, Casey had . . . 

He downed the shot. There had been a trailer with an old Lancers bottle turned into a lamp, and they’d drank Chivas, because his dad always said it was the good stuff, and Casey had, Casey had, Casey had . . . 

Zeke tapped the shot glass again, but the bartender shook his head at him. “Closing time, man,” he said. “ _Feliz Navidad_.”

“Yeah,” Zeke said, and pushed slowly back from the bar. “ _Feliz Navidad_.” He stood slowly, careful to keep his balance, and then stared blankly at the television. It was warm outside, but the scene showed a cabin with snow falling on it. Lights from a Christmas tree blinked out of the windows.

They’d had a Christmas tree. A five dollar tree, and decorations that were more trouble than they were worth. They’d had a Christmas dinner, hadn’t they? Zeke frowned, trying to remember. Sometimes the details slid through his fingers, but he could remember Casey’s face, happy-drunk and trusting and and and . . .

Zeke stumbled to the door and pushed it open. He had a room down the street, with some people he’d done a job for, but suddenly he wanted fresh air, so he zigzagged his way along the street. 

That song had been playing, when Casey had fallen asleep, his hand in Zeke’s. It had been snowing outside the trailer, and inside it had been warm. 

Casey’s forehead under his lips had been warm, too, and Casey had Casey had Casey had . . . 

“I know that song,” Zeke muttered to himself. He’d stopped walking, and was standing in the middle of the street, swaying. 

“ _Señor_?” a voice said. “ _Usted necesita ayuda?_ ” 

“No,” Zeke said. “ _No necesito ayuda._ ” After a moment, he added, “ _Feliz Navidad_.”

“ _Feliz Navidad, señor_ ,” the voice replied, and footsteps walked away.

“ _Feliz Navidad_ ,” Zeke said to the night. “ _Sueño en paz divina_.”


End file.
